The Eaorl: The Casere

By Michael O'Neill

Major Conn MacLeod (Ret,) is definitely no ordinary forty-six year old - and he now has an even longer list of achievements to prove it. Just six years after successfully passing through a "portal" from 21st Century Earth to medieval Meshech, he is conceivably the wealthiest man alive; master of numerous demesnes, farmer, industrialist and merchant - and soon to be the father of thirteen children. Despite his obvious success, he is risking it all by intervening in a war that is not of his making and is leading his small army again huge odds.  His opponents are aided by the Ancuman, powerful warriors from a distant continent, who, guided by their mad Goddess, are trying to conquer Meshech and enslave everyone - and who is taking his constant interfering extremely poorly. What happens if you "really" upset a goddess?

Thankfully, he has his slave girl, the beautiful but deadly Priecuman warrior Halla, to keep him diverted and the mighty warrior, Derryth of the Twacuman,  to keep him alive.

With a lopsided war to fight, amorous women to placate, and an irate Goddess to elude, what could possibly go wrong?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael O'Neill
• Release date: Mar 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386458029

Michael O'Neill

Michael O'Neill started working with Richard Ulbrich almost thirty years ago, and together, in 1994, they published his ultimate companion volume for all thoroughbred enthusiasts,  “Richard Ulbrich's Peerage of Racehorses”. Some years later, Michael facilitated and managed the online version of his book, www.ulbrichspeerage.net. With Richard's passing, Michael intends to find a way to keep his work available for all, for time immemorial, as his work is an indispensable resource for all thoroughbred lovers.

Book preview

"War never takes a wicked man by chance;

the good man always."

― SOPHOCLES

For Di and Hollie, with all my love

The Story So Far

THE ARRIVAL OUT OF nowhere of Connor McLeod, otherwise known as Conn il Taransay, caused no little bemusement amongst the Twacuman (the second born of all peoples) in the land called Halani, and they quickly become accustomed to his presence. After all, they were indebted to him because he saved the life of their princess, and only heir to her grandmother Brina, Wealdend (Queen) of Halani. What probably caused them more confusion was his innate ability to understand the spoken language of the Twacuman – it was considered a gift from the Gyden (Goddesses), and the last one so gifted had died hundreds of years previously.

The ability to understand all language without the need to learn them was a gift given to all people in Meshech by the Gyden, but never the ability to understand the language of the Twacuman. The Ancuman spoke one of the Priecuman (the third born) languages to be understood in the wider community. Although connected to their Gyden in a subliminal way, by virtue of the Wothbora (Seer), the Gyden were unusually silent on the implications of Conn’s presence in the island of Meshech. They were equally silent when he fathered a child with one of the Twacuman. A Priecuman, which Conn assuredly was, not supposed to be able to impregnate a Twacuman.

Of course, the confusion he caused amongst the Twacuman was nothing like that which he caused amongst the Priecuman nobles after he moved from Halani to Lykia, a neighbouring principality. After purchasing a few manors – or demesne – he soon became the most powerful noble in Lykia, amassing land, power, wealth (and children) at an unprecedented rate. Then again, he knows a lot of things that they don’t, and he put that knowledge to his advantage. Soon, Lykia was pretty much running how he wanted it to.

Along the way, he was able to significantly annoy the Rakian Kingdom in the south, and their secretive Ancuman (first-born) allies. The Ancuman were a tribe of warriors from another continent over the sea; Kishdah. He annoyed them so much that they, albeit unsuccessfully, tried to have him killed.

Moving east to Moetia, he successfully unsettles everyone, including the visiting Aebeling (Prince) of Rakia and manoeuvres to have the vacant position of Aebeling of Lykia filled with a person of his choice. Not content to rest on his laurels, Conn then decides to intervene in a war between the Wealdend of Trokia, a demesne even further to the east, and their aggressors – the demesne of Gatina and their supporters from Rakia (and their Ancuman allies). As a result of his meddling, he had been singularly successful in getting the Ancuman Gyden to hate him intensely – and one never knows what can happen to you if you really upset a Gyden.

He particularly upsets her when he steals one of her children, who he makes his slave. It was an accident. She started the fight. He finished it, and in losing, she forfeited her freedom and became theow.

To be able to help Trokia, Conn needs to pass through Kania and the ruler of Kania is a stooge of Rakia, intent on stopping Conn at any cost – including raising a fyrd of five thousand to stand in his way. Not to put off by trifles such as a three to one disadvantage, Conn first invades Kania and steals the daughter of the brother of the Aebeling, a man currently in exile, and readies his fyrd to invade Kania. Nothing is ever as easy as it seems.

Chapter One

867

IT WAS AUTUMN IN THE year 867 – so called because it was 867 years since the great tsunami that set back civilization hundreds of years and from which all living people measured their survival, and almost exactly just six years since Conn il Taransay arrived in Halani.

It could be argued which event would have the biggest impact on the planet!

After arrived in Halani, Conn had made his way to Moetia earlier that year. He was now returning to Moetiak after a fortuitous trip to the neighbouring, and usually hostile, demesne of Kania, where he had taken the rebel Aebeling of Kania’s daughter hostage.

As they rode up to the guard house on the outer walls of Moetiak, it was pouring rain. Conn identified himself to the town guard, and, with the gates opened, they continued their way through town to an inn. It was not just any inn, but Conn’s own private inn, the Boar’s Head. The cold and unseasonable heavy rain had made the trip from Shekem in Kania to Moetiak take much longer than it should, and as uncomfortable as it was for the riders, it would have been much more uncomfortable for the Kanian Fyrd gathering in makeshift tents over the border, waiting for him to invade.

It had taken them even longer to get to Moetiak because they had paused to inspect the progress of the training of Conn’s fyrd, which, despite being relatively few in number, was quickly becoming extremely lethal. It was understandable because they had the best training, the best horses, and the best equipment ever seen in Meshech. Conn’s years of breeding horses and manufacturing and stockpiling weapons and armour was now proving extremely worthwhile.

The mere presence of the fyrd in Moesia made everyone nervous, including the Healdend of Moetia who had given permission for it to be assembled on his lands. He could do little else now but trust Conn, as there was really nothing he could do about it now anyway. That horse had truly bolted. Conn’s fyrd outnumbered his ten to one – and the combined wig of all his Eaorls might outnumber Conn’s wiga, he knew they would be slaughtered if a battle happened despite the numeric superiority. 

Conn had returned to Moetiak with Derryth il Halani, his theow Halla il Cyme, his current protégé, Arlen il Batra, and Brit il Dor, the ‘hostage’. As part of his negotiations with her father, he had requested that Brit become bedda to Arlen once she was sixteen, which would be the next spring. It had been amusing to see the fifteen-year-old tomboy constantly verbally sparing with the young man, as well as see him become increasingly smitten with the young firebrand. Sometimes, it wasn’t verbal – Halla had been instructed to train Brit every day for an hour in combat techniques and as the women of Cyme were considered some of the best fighters, male or female, in all known worlds, it was not long before she was Arlen’s equal. Conn and Derryth trained him as well, so he could stand his ground.

With the horses handed over in the livery for a rub down and some steaming oats, they raced into the Inn to sit by the roaring fires in an endeavour to shake the cold from their bones. Despite some of the best wet weather gear available prior to the invention of rubber, they were chilled to the core.

After several tankards of beer and cups of coffee, as well as a hot and delicious stew, they finally felt able to speak. Brit had spent most of her life living in the wilds of Shekem while her father was in exile and a ‘rebel’ and was not accustomed to living in a modern town. She soon started to explore the most modern building she had ever seen. She was fascinated.

Aerlene il Susa, Eaorl, and coincidentally a bedda to Conn, had been waiting inside the warm and dry confines of the Inn. She had returned to the town soon after Conn had left for Kania so that she could prepare for the birth of her babies – by doing a lot of shopping. Before Conn, Aerlene had been bedda to the last surviving Eaorl of Susa who, despite several bedda, was unable to sire a surviving child. Aerlene herself had one born stillborn while another had died soon after birth and was very hopeful this time of having healthy babies. The folgere had told her that the Gyden Badb wanted her to have healthy babies. She was carrying twins, as was typical of Conn and his siring skills.

Aerlene was almost stunned in silence on being introduced to his new companions: Brit il Dor and Derryth il Halani. Conn understood that it had been a long time since anyone from Halani had visited Moetia. She hid her amazement by focusing on Brit. Aerlene pretended to be horrified at the sight of her.

‘This will never do – she hardly even looks like a girl! She needs a bath, new clothes, her hair done, makeup ... but I do see some promise.’

‘She looks like a girl to me,’ Arlen added hopefully. He was still seriously in her bad books.

‘That just shows what level of taste you have then doesn’t it, warmonger?’ Brit responded. The conversation was days old, but she still hadn’t let it go.

After promising the girl that tomorrow they would do more shopping, she was sent to bed. It had been a long time since Brit had seen a proper mattress in a building with more luxury than even the Aebeling of Kania, and she fell asleep as soon as she lay down.

After a hot bath, Conn joined Aerlene in bed and held her close. He patted her growing tummy. She scolded him.

‘You could have warned me...’

‘About?’

‘Derryth. No one here has met anyone from Halani in two or three lifetimes. Some even thought that they had died out completely.’

‘They haven’t done that. Anyway, I couldn’t,’ Conn explained the turn of events that led to Derryth joining him.

‘And you think it will work? Will Esras turn up?’

‘He has no reason not to.’ He started to undo her nightgown.

She ignored him. ‘Also, you lied to me.’

Conn tried to look surprised. Everything about him was a lie.

‘About what exactly...’ He started to kiss her neck just in case he needed to distract her.

‘About the curse – there is no curse.’

Conn had told her that he was under a Gyden’s curse, which is what he was told by a Folgere, and was the reason why he almost always had twins with his bedda. Conn waited for her to continue.

‘Badb told Moana that she doesn’t feel anything about you is cursed. Besides, Moana only had a single child with you.’

‘And what about all my children being girls?’

Well, nearly all. His eldest, Jowan, was a boy, but his mother was a Twacuman which wasn’t normal anyway. He didn’t think that Badb knew about him anyway – not many people did. Conn was a blank sheet to the Gyden in Meshech. They communicated with their followers by connecting to their auras, as well as minds in the case of the Healdends, but despite the numerous dalliances he had had with the folgere, priestess of the Gyden, they had yet to read his aura. In the euphoria of orgasmic bliss in the arms of a sex-crazed folgere, the aura had no protection against the probing of a Gyden – except Conn’s of course. To their ongoing frustration, he remained impenetrable.

Which was the direct opposite to the situation the folgere found themselves in.

He could communicate via his thoughts with a Gyden just like the Healdend, but to their even greater annoyance, he had the ability to shut them out. He had done so when he returned to Moetiak. He found it extremely annoying to have a presence lurking in the back of his head.

To his knowledge, he was the only person who could communicate with all the different Gyden. He didn’t tell anyone that either. These were questions to which there were no answers worth sharing or hypothesising.

Aerlene shook her head. ‘Nope – nothing to do with her either. As I said, you fibbed. So, maybe I’ll have two boys.’

Now totally naked, she rolled Conn over and eased herself onto his chest.

‘Have you warned my brother about Derryth?’

‘No – should I have?’

She giggled. ‘You are pure evil – you know that?’

~oo0oo~

The next morning, Aerlene took Brit shopping at sunrise, waking the shopkeeper from his slumber. After returning, she took her to the bathhouse and washed her thoroughly before changing her into her new clothes. She then escorted the new woman down to join them at breakfast. When Arlen saw her, his jaw dropped.

Brit smiled at him for the first time and actually twirled. ‘Much better response. So, do you still want to go to war?’

Arlen let that one pass. He knew he was on a hiding to nothing.

Halla was suddenly melancholy. ‘You have done well, Aerlene. I remember her mother because she was so very beautiful. It is like looking at her.’

A messenger had been sent to the castle to request an audience with the Healdend, and he arrived back to say that Driscol was waiting for them.

Conn stood. ‘Come, the Healdend is waiting. He is not going to have a good day. Everything I do seems to annoy him.’

Aerlene pointed out the obvious. ‘You still could have warned him about Derryth.’

Conn smiled mischievously. ‘Why – that would ruin all my fun.’

A short walk from the Inn along the street found them at the inner walls to the castle and then to the doors of the Great Hall. As they travelled, people parted and stopped as they saw Derryth walk with Conn. Silence surrounded them, but they all bowed politely. They were getting used to Conn and the Twacuman was something new.

Conn looked at the surprise on the faces of the people they passed. It was not fear or disdain – it was both reverence and astonishment. He looked back at Derryth in confusion.

‘So when exactly was the last time that the Twacuman visited Moetiak? You said it was some time ago...’

‘Over two hundred years ago I think – my great grandfather’s father was an emissary of Halani and travelled to all the Priecuman towns every now and then. It was not long after that we stopped visiting.’

Conn laughed. ‘No wonder. I thought maybe a hundred years ... do we know why they stopped visiting?’

Derryth shook his head. ‘If I was Wothbora, I might. But I don’t.’

As they walked into the hall, the noise level dropped until the only person talking was the Healdend, and that was because he was facing the other way, talking to his son Bran, who had stopped paying attention and was staring at Conn’s group as they arrived.

Driscol, with the silence noticeable, stopped and turned around. When he saw Derryth, he actually dropped his mug, and then dropped into his chair.

‘Told you,’ Conn said to Brit as they walked towards him. ‘He hates surprises.’

Before they got to the Healdend, a small girl raced forward and jumped into her father’s arms. Giving him a big hug, she turned to Derryth. ‘Hello Derryth. My name is Ana. Badb says welcome.’

Derryth almost stumbled, then he looked at her. Conn introduced her properly and reassured him; ‘Don’t mind her. She has a direct line to Badb.’

‘That may be so, but how does the Gyden Badb know my name?’

When they got to Driscol, his glass had been rescued and refilled. The hall, though, was still very silent.

‘Healdend, I’d like to introduce Derryth il Halani, and Brit, daughter of Esras, uncle of the current Aebeling of Kania.’

Driscol il Moetia was a man used to running his own show and liked having that feeling of control you have when you are the undisputed dictator of your demesne. He had lost that since Conn’s arrival, and as much as he seemed to value his relationship with Conn, it always seemed that he wished for times when life was much simpler – before Conn’s arrival from Lykia only at the beginning of summer last. A lot can happen in such a short time.

The Healdend gathered his wits. ‘When you say current, Thane, it brings a bad taste to my mouth. Welcome back. Life is just so boring when you are not around,’ he commented sarcastically. He then addressed Derryth. ‘You honour the house of Moetia by your attendance, Derryth il Halani. It has been a very long time since these halls have been so graced.’

Derryth bowed respectfully. ‘Yes, I believe that it was my ancestor Wilwar who visited here to meet with his friend Faolan, Healdend of Moetia. The description of this hall has been passed down to me. I see it hasn’t changed much.’

They all laughed at the joke, and Driscol continued. ‘We are doubly honoured that the scion of the man my family called a friend is here to visit. The records of Faolan have much to say about the visits of the Twacuman. To what do we owe the honour?’

‘Healdend, I am only here because my friend Conn il Taransay needed my assistance and given that interesting things seem to happen around him, I thought I’d tag along for a while. As you say, life can be so boring without him around.’

‘I understand your predicament. Life has not been the same since he arrived in ...

Suddenly Derryth grabbed his head, as if struck by an object. Conn leapt to his feet as if to attack an unseen foe, but there was nothing around. Conn was about to ask what was wrong as Derryth waved him down.

‘I beg your pardon, Healdend, but it may be that something greater than chance has brought me here. There is something lost in your castle, and it is calling me. I can’t tell what it is. But it once belonged to one of Halani.’

Everyone looked confused except Ana. The young child walked over to Driscol and held out her arms. He instinctively picked her up. ‘Grandfather, why don’t you show Derryth the medallion that you carry?’

Driscoll looked at the girl in in surprise, and putting her down, he reached into his pocket to retrieve a leather hide pouch. He handed it to Derryth.

Derryth opened the pouch carefully and removed a medallion from its depths. He held it in his hand. ‘I know of this – it was given by my ancestor to your ancestor as a sign of true friendship. It is not lost – but why is it in a pouch, in your pocket?’

‘I can’t wear it. It burns my skin and makes me feel unwell. My father had a red wound on his chest where it lay.’

Derryth looked surprised. ‘Then something or someone has done something that made the friendship between our houses an untruth. A medallion like this will refuse to be worn if a friend becomes a false friend.’ He looked around and he saw Driscol’s grandson, who despite the efforts of Ana, was still sickly and in poor health. ‘Your grandson also appears to carry an affliction. Has your house always been sickly?’

Driscol nodded. ‘It has been a hard time for my house to keep heirs. I am the third son, and my father was the fourth son. Bran’, he pointed to his son, ‘had three elder brothers die soon after birth and I only have one grandson, Alduni.’

He sat down, and Ana sat on his lap again. ‘But it is not possible – my father and his forefathers have always considered those of Halani in the highest esteem. It is not possible that they dishonoured the friendship.’

Ana whispered in his ear.

‘But it’s not possible.’ he repeated. Driscol looked quite stressed now and under pressure. She whispered again, and he sat with his eyes closed, with her still on his lap.

Ana must have told him to open his mind fully, giving Badb open access, and after about five minutes, he opened his eyes. There were tears on his face. He wiped them off.

‘Perhaps it will be useful if I tell me you about my family. My grandfather died quite young, as did his father and his father before him – to the reign of Faolan. Faolan had two sons who survived him – the eldest was Earpwald who died without children soon after he became Healdend. His younger brother Egan then became Healdend. Egan died when my ancestor was five.’

Ana returned to Conn while Driscol stood and walked around, collecting wine before sitting beside Conn and Derryth on the wooden bench that sat with the long tables in the hall. These were a new design, sourced from Lykia – and one of Conn’s factories.

‘I mentioned that Faolan had journals that referred to the visits of those of Halani. I haven’t read them for some time, but I seem to recall that they did mentioned visits from Piada.’

Conn looked at Derryth curiously. ‘I wasn’t aware that those from Piada travelled all over as well?’

He nodded. ‘They travelled the coastline – they were or are great sailors, who visited all the Meshech, trading goods. That is part of our concern – that stopped as well.’

The Healdend had been contemplative the whole time. ‘I remember reading about one of their visits. I read also that it turned out to be the last time anyone from Piada ever visited Moetia.’

‘Do they say why?’

Driscol nodded. ‘Yes – I recall that one of the Twacuman died here – there was much written about it because of that incident. It was a girl, I believe. I read that she was so beautiful that whenever she would talk, all would listen, and wherever she walked, men would follow.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘My ancestor’s scribes were quite eloquent in their description of her.’

Conn asked if knew how she died.

Driscol nodded. ‘I believe it was an accident, but I read also that a wergild was paid – a large one, so I can only assume that the so-called accident involved a member of my family.’ He looked to Derryth sharply. ‘And you say there is a curse?’

‘Not so much a curse; more of a caution that a reckoning that needs to happen. What is obvious is that the wergild did not satisfy the debt, and there must have been dishonesty in the remorse shown.’

‘So, the matter is not settled?’

Derryth considered the matter. ‘No, and for the shame to be transferred to your line, your ancestor must have shared in the guilt so that it remains in your house.’

‘Derryth, if there is a matter to be settled – I do not know how to pay the price as I ...’ Driscol paused and stood abruptly. ‘My father spoke of a small box – he said that it belonged to his father and his grandfather before that. He would not allow anyone to touch it – I think I only saw it once as a child and then discovered it again after I became Healdend. It had been hidden away.’ Driscol sent one of the servants for the box and they waited for his return, sipping on wine.

It didn’t take long for the item to return. It was in a much larger box. Driscol opened the bigger box, removed the smaller item and handed it to Derryth. The box was beautifully handcrafted and ornate, about ten inches by five. Derryth opened the lid and peered inside – the box was empty.

‘There is nothing there – when I found it, it was the same.’

Derryth studied the box. ‘This is a well-crafted item – I think it was made by Twacuman craeftiga, not Priecuman, which is strange.’ He handed it back to Driscol. ‘There is definitely something unusual about it though.’

Ana, who was sitting on Conn’s lap again, whispered in his ear. ‘Badb says it’s in the box.’

Conn told him and Driscol shook the box in frustration. There was no sound. ‘The box is empty – how can it be relevant?’

Conn asked to examine the box and as he did, he realized that it didn’t balance properly; the centre of gravity was not in the centre. He looked at Driscol. ‘The box is uneven. One end is heavier than the other – there must be a secret compartment at the ends. There is room – they are quite big in relationship to the width.’

With Derryth’s sharp eyes sight they studied the box looking for some kind of secret latch. Ana was looking with him. She pointed. ‘There – there is a small hole there.’

Conn had one of the staff fetch a bamboo needle and handing the box back, Driscol used it to push into the hole. As he did, the small sliding cover popped out. Driscol open it and looked inside. There was a small leather bag and it fell into Driscol’s hand. He handed it to Conn.

‘Try the other end too’, Conn offered.

Driscol found the second hole, and pushed, and a second cover popped out. This one didn’t drop out; it was jammed tight. Driscol pulled it out with care, and opening the leather case, he revealed a green haligdom, long and thin.

Derryth held a medallion – just like the ones carried by Driscol and Conn. He broke the silence. ‘Well, these are not things you see every day.’

Something that had been nagging Conn for a long time suddenly became clear to him. When he had arrived in Moetiak, he had felt the Gyden Badb strongly in his head as it was her demesne, but inside the castle he had sensed a second Gyden – one he couldn’t explain until now. It now all made sense. The haligdom was one of the most beautiful gemstones that they had ever seen; it gleamed ever so slightly in the dark hall.

‘I think I know what this gemstone is,’ Conn added, ‘It is the haligdom from the Cirice in Silekia. It is not just any haligdom. I think it is a heartstone – Inanna’s heartstone.’

Conn knew he was correct the moment he said her name – he could feel something at the back of his mind; almost like a little rush of adrenalin. She was obviously happy to hear her name, but as to whether she knew they had her haligdom – he wasn’t sure. He certainly wasn’t going to open his mind to her to ask – without any of the blue dress wearing variety of folgere nearby, he wasn’t sure what the response would be. She certainly had no expectation of being sensed by Conn.

Driscol was astounded. ‘Why would a Gyden’s heartstone be here?’

‘No idea. But remember that of the four main cirices in Meshech, only one is complete – here in Moetiak. The Cirice in Gatina was closed down soon after the fall of the Casere and the heartstone supposedly destroyed. No one knows where the Cirice in Trokia is, and cirice in Silekia was abandoned – and no one knew where that heartstone was. We do now.’

‘You are suggesting that the Twacuman in Piada stole it?’

Conn shook his head. ‘Seems incredibly unlikely but I don’t know.’ Conn looked at Derryth. ‘It was not the haligdom that was calling to you was it?’

Derryth agreed. ‘No – it was the medallion. It is said that they are the gift of Gyden and they do not like to be away from their rightful owners.’ He studied the medal closely. ‘I know this medallion...’

‘I don’t understand...’

‘I also think I know who the girl was, but I can’t explain why she had the haligdom. Let me think.’ They paused while he paused. ‘Her name was Conchobel... no it was Conchobarre. I remember the story now. She was the younger sister of Cynwahl who the son of the Aebeling of Piada. When Freyotta went to Piada to seek a bedda, she took her sister Ceolkilda with her. The three of them became friends. Ceolkilda even stayed as bedda to her brother. Freyotta took Ulfkarl, Cynwahl’s uncle, as her bedda and returned to Halani. Before she left, she gave this necklace to Conchobarre.’

‘Is that not unusual?’

Derryth agreed. ‘It is; we never give pendants to another Twacuman – there is no need. Freyotta was however very wise. Her mother Adelda is also my ancestor. Adelda was a Wothbora, and had Wilwar who became Wothbora, and then had Freyotta to the Healdend. It is unusual for a Twacuman female to have children to two different men. It is said that Freyotta claimed that Conchobarre had a troubled soul, so she gave her a pendant to help. The story is told because it is the only time that such a thing has ever been done.’

Conn continued the story. ‘So Conchobarre possibly had a troubled soul because she had found the haligdom, and then even brought it with her all the way here to Moetiak, then somehow lost both things and died...’

Derryth concurred. ‘It is clear that your ancestors were involved somehow, and it was their untruths that created your problem. They must have lied about the haligdom.’

Driscol took a deep breath. ‘And the pendant as well?’

‘Yes, it too was stolen or taken from the girl.’

‘Does this mean that it is over? That my family can now be healthy? That Alduni will get better?’

Ana interjected as she got off Conn’s lap and went to Alduni. ‘He will be fine now. Badb will take care of him.’

Looking relieved, Driscol glanced back at the glowing blue gemstone. ‘What are we going to do with it?’ He was asking Derryth.

Derryth shook his head. ‘It is not for me to say. I will claim the pendant and return it to Caewyn as it belongs to her. But the haligdom is not mine.’

They both looked at Conn. He shrugged. ‘I’ll take it. ... I have some experience with these things.’

Derryth looked at him strangely. ‘I don’t understand.’

Driscol laughed. ‘Did the Thane not tell you? He has single handed replaced all four haligdoms in the Moetian cirice.’

Derryth looked at Conn and laughed. ‘You didn’t tell me that. You are not supposed to attempt life-endangering acts when I’m not around – I have a debt to repay. How did you do it anyway? I thought only a Folgere can do that... and only with a lot of help.’

Driscol agreed. ‘I did to – and all the folgere I’ve ever spoken to have said much the same thing.’ He handed over the gemstone to Conn. ‘Take it with my warmest thanks. I’m more than happy to see the end of it. Generations of grief have been caused because of the events that surrounded this ... stone.’

Conn took the gemstone and placed it carefully in his pouch. ‘I’ll return it to Silekia when I can.’ He was not so sure he was going to enjoy having Inanna travelling around with him and looking over his shoulder all the time, but what could he do.

Driscoll then actually smiled. He then yelled at some servants to bring wine and food, and lots of it. It seemed that a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He refused to talk again until he had drunk half a jug. He tried to cover the tears that streamed down his face, but he failed. Ana came to hug him, and he held her tight.

After he had recovered, he spoke again. ‘Ok, at least that’s over. Now let’s eat. I suddenly feel famished. Then we can talk about the second puzzle – what possible reason is there for the daughter of a rebel Aebeling from Kania to be in my castle? And as welcome as she is, I just know I am not going to like the answer.’

~oo0oo~

Conn tried to explain as simply as he could over the meal.

‘Now, let me get this right. You have just been to Kania where you just happened to meet Esras, Eaorl in exile and declared rebel, and you just happened to kidnap his daughter. Why were you in Kania in the first place?

Conn shrugged. ‘I got lost, discovered some people following me and decided to ask for directions.’

‘Very funny. So, why did you go and see Esras?’

‘I wanted his help on getting my fyrd through Kania. I figure as the Aebeling he will be much more amenable to my request...

‘As Aebeling – what has the current one done to himself?’

‘Nothing yet, but I understand he has a terminal illness... and it would be appropriate to replace Gorman with Esras, or, at least, I’m going to help Esras defeat Gorman without too many lives lost.’

‘I knew I didn’t like it when you said current. You know Moetia can’t be involved.’ He looked at Conn suspiciously. ‘You didn’t promise support from Moetia did you?’

‘No, I did not, but ...’

‘I knew there would be a but.’

‘I would like to borrow the Moetian Cavalry for a day...’

Bran, Aebeling of Moetia, and Driscol’s only son, stood and spoke. He had joined them not long after the arrival of the haligdom bearing box, as had many others. The hall was now full.

‘Thane, if you want me to invade Kania, I’ll do it. Ignore what my father says – whatever you want me to do I will. I have never felt better in my whole life. This is the best day of my life. You have lifted a curse from my family, so my sword is yours to command, and now that I might be able to swing a sword, I might need your help to get into condition.’

Tears welled in the Healdend’s eyes as he watched his son speak. Just thirty-five years old, he had been a weak, thin and sickly child. Whilst he had improved over time, he was never able to be a Folctoga as was customary for the Aebeling. To see him sound stronger, and almost look stronger, made the Healdend’s heart break.

Driscol rubbed his eyes. ‘Do what you must, but please try not to start a war.’ He then turned to Brit. ‘I’m still unsure why you are here, Brit...’

‘The Thane had me betrothed...’ She pointed to Arlen, ‘to him...’

‘Betrothed? Isn’t this a bit sudden? How old are you, child?’

‘I have survived fifteen winters.’

Conn decided to interject. ‘She will make up her mind up next spring of course, but I think they seem perfect for each other! Oh, and Esras is going to make him an Eaorl as a wedding gift.’

‘What, only an Eaorl,’ Driscol replied exasperatedly, ‘and which Eaorldom is he going to have?’

‘Dor. It was Brit’s mother’s, and I didn’t really warm to the current holder.’

‘I didn’t warm to him much myself, but it didn’t seem reason enough to invade Kania. It seems a little contrived to me, Brit, but if you do decide to marry my cousin, you can be assured that I will give the joining my blessing.’

‘Your cousin? I thought his father was an Eaorl?’ She again looked scornfully at Arlen, who tried to look wounded.

‘That is true, his father is my cousin – of my house. I gather he has not told you much of his family.’ The Healdend laughed, and he sounded happy for once. He then stood and raised his glass. ‘Moetians, this is a joyous day. To our guests Derryth il Halani and Brit il Kania, betrothed of Arlen il Batra.’ They drank the toast and Driscol sat. He looked at Conn and enquired, ‘Now, you have no more surprises for me today, do you? I’m not sure if I can handle a third one.’

Chapter Two

868

THE RECOVERY OF BRAN and Alduni seemed almost miraculous; with every day seeing an improvement in the pair. When Conn moved to Susa for the winter to train his wiga, he invited Bran to go with him so that he could assist in his recovery. There Bran joined in the training and would work until he was exhausted. But the next day he would turn up again to go the next step. His recovery was also demonstrated by the report of a couple of his bedda becoming pregnant – to everyone’s delight. At the turn of the new year, there was a spring in his step, and he was riding and fighting better than most.

Brit had also been training daily with Halla, and over the winter had grown and developed beautifully; taller, her hair now longer, she was every bit as beautiful as her mother was reported to be. Arlen, by this time, was besotted, and he tried very hard to hide it. She knew that he knew that she knew, and she taunted him constantly. It was fun to watch – Derryth found it most amusing.

As the season changed, his fyrd were ready to march after a winter of relentless training. Conn had reports received via Derryth that the Gatinan fyrd had crossed the border into Trokia. He assumed that soon after it would have had its first battle with the Trokian fyrd somewhere in the Eaorldom of Ridlah.

Conn assumed that the battle would have been short and bloody – and the Gatinans would be victorious given that Rakian wiga made up a large part of their fyrd. After the victory they would head to Trokiak, hacking their way through the Eaorldom of Temah. With their infantry and followers in tow, that would take less than ten days.

If the Trokians had followed his suggestions, most of them would have evacuated their homes and be behind the walls of Trokiak, which were considerable, and safe for the moment. Inevitably, some foolhardy Trokian Eaorl would try to make himself a hero by attacking the Gatinans, but that would fail.

Outside Trokiak, the Gatinans would attempt to storm the walls – they would have prepared scaling ladders and a range of artillery weapons like battering rams and catapults. Conn was prepared for this: the attack on the walls would be unsuccessful as Conn had sent his Atrak Regiment to Trokiak; it was made up of some of his best Silekian archers with supplies and equipment, and an artillery company with the best siege equipment every seen in Meshech. The mangonel and trebuchet they manned had a superior range and accuracy to local examples, and any Gatinan attack by artillery would be thwarted.

So quickly stymied, Conn wasn’t sure what the Galatians would do next. What was intended to be a short campaign just turned into a long one and they could possibly resort to trying to force surrender by devastating the countryside and the population outside of Trokiak. The Trokians had no other castles that would stand up to siege weapons. It was thus essential for Conn to get there as soon as possible – which was between thirty and forty days, depending on what was in his way.

~oo0oo~

Aerlene, now heavily pregnant, was returning to Moetiak with her brother. There she would have her babies. The Folgere Moana wanted her in the town so that the children would be born safely in the Cirice, and she would stay there until they were healthy enough to travel back to Susa.

Conn apologised that he wasn’t going to be around when they were born.

Aerlene said she understood. ‘When do you think we will see you again?’

Conn had intimated many times that he might not be back – there were no guarantees.

‘I do not know. I am uncertain how long the war will take, and I will see it to its conclusion. None of us can afford to lose this one. But I hope I will be back.’ He held her close and kissed her one last time before she left.

~oo0oo~

At sunrise, the Healdend rode with him to join the fyrd as they gathered and prepared to cross the border in Kania.

‘And you think this plan will work?’ Driscol was genuinely afraid that things were going to go poorly.

‘I am hopeful that not too many lives will be lost,’ Conn advised. ‘We know that very few are happy with the Aebeling, so with the opportunity of change presented to them, they may well grasp it with both hands.’

Conn had arranged a March Past and they were led out by Bran, Folctoga of Moetia, now fit and healthy, at the head of the three hundred wiga that had trained daily with Conn’s men. Conn saluted them as they passed, and, although the symbolism was lost on him, Driscol did the same.

The Moetians, like the entire fyrd behind them, were resplendent in new uniforms and new tabards. The first layer of their uniform was a silk lined undershirt in the style of a happi, followed by the long sleeved linen tunic, a short sleeved padded gambeson, a chain mail hauberk, and finally a dark blue linen tabard that sported the Moetian device, with a white trim. On their head, they wore a woollen beret in dark blue, with a metal helm handing on the side of their saddles.

The march pass was impressive not only for the pure number of wiga but also due to the uniformity of the uniforms. Conn had been manufacturing uniforms and equipment for some years, so it was an easy to transform a bedraggled mob of men in standing in whatever they owned, into something that also looked like fighting force. All the wiga wore a gambeson made from wool or linen coloured by oak gall, and their pants were all walnut husk brown. Coloured berets and tabards were simply the final touch.

As it was new to the Healdend, Conn explained his command structure, as each wiga wore insignia to indicate his rank. A Major commanded a regiment and wore a single star on his collar. Within each regiment were five to ten companies led by a Captain with three stripes on his collar, and within each company were five platoons led by a Corporal wearing two stripes. Within the platoons were squads led by Ensigns. Ensigns wore a single stripe.

After the Moetians, the next to pass was the Barek Regiment, raised by Conn in Susa. It was led by Arlen il Batra, with the rank of Major, and comprised over five hundred men. They were the least trained of all his wiga, and consequently were trained as bowmen and pikemen. Although they would fight on the ground, they all rode horses drawn from local supplies to get them to the battlefront. Their tabard was half dark blue, for Moetian, and half cutch brown, with Conn’s golden sun device and a white trim.

Arlen’s second in command was Captain Leogar il Farah, the second son of the Earl of Farah. Conn had disappointed his ambitions to become Eaorl of Susa so had offered him a commissioned him into the Barek Regiment instead. Another young noble recently promoted to Captain was someone that Conn thought was very promising; Eldward il Durah. He was the younger brother of the Eaorl of Durah and a cousin to both Devlin il Menia and Leogar il Farah. He arrived with a strong letter of recommendation from Allowena. The second most impoverished of all Moetian Eaorls, Driscol overlooked his participation as he did Leogar’s.

Leogar saluted his Healdend as he passed, with a smile on his face.

Driscol was not impressed. ‘Leogar was always a frivolous young man. Has he improved?’

Conn nodded. ‘Impressively so. If he wants to gain wealth now, he must do it the hard way. Poverty has a way of making us see the world in a different way.’

The Moetians were followed by his Lykians, the Hama Regiment. All the wiga were trained as Sagittari; the Sagittari were a light horse cavalry unit based on the famous Mongol cavalry and its many successors. They were lightly armoured because their main weapon was the bow, and most rode horses that were both light and fast; the product of a special purpose breeding program based around his Arabian stallion, they were also predominantly grey. They wore a tabard of half blue and half cutch brown with the Lykian light blue trim.

His other Lykian regiment – the Atrak Regiment – wore a tabard of half cutch brown and saffron and had been sent direct to Trokiak as the wiga were trained bowmen and artillery.

Being almost a thousand men, the Hama Regiment had two Majors; the senior was Belkin Il Gozan, former Folctoga and brother to the Eaorl of Gozan. The junior was Uileog il Azali, one of the many Silekians in his fyrd whose demesnes had been taken by the Rakians and were doing what they could to help reclaim their birthrights. One of the Captains was Wynbert il Tabae, younger brother of Octa.

The last group to pass was the Enfeh Regiment, now led by Major Wilgar il Melnik. These were cataphracts, his heavy cavalry, and the sight of them clearly unsettled Driscol. Instead of gambesons, they wore metal-reinforced brigandines over their three-quarter hauberk chainmail, and as well as the extra armour on the rider, they wore extra on the chests and necks of their horses. These were the strike fighters of his force – they were designed to hit a line of wiga at speed and cut through them like butter; and to achieve this they carried a long bamboo lance, as well as the ubiquitous sword, shield, a dagger, as well as a backup bow and quiver. Most of the horses were some of Conn’s finest – big, strong and all buckskins, being descendent of his Lusitano stallion. Even Conn was impressed. Enfeh was in Silekia and their tabard was half brown and half green, with the gold sun device and a white trim.

Combined, he had just under fifteen hundred cavalry wiga, but they were as good as could be found anywhere, and were supported by bowmen, pikemen and artillery.

The most important was the last in line, the Logistics Regiment; with its medics, engineers, blacksmiths, craeftiga, pipers, drummers, signallers and cooks – and two hundred horse carts and pack animals carrying supplies for the campaign. Logistics was led by Major Wuffa. Someone famous once said that a fyrd marches on its stomach, and Conn had no intention of letting his fyrd run out of food or essential supplies. Their tabard was all brown, gold sun device, and a white trim. Medics wore a white tabard with a red cross.

It was easy enough to feed a fyrd if you had a reliable supply route, and he needed regime change in Kania to ensure that. An immense quantity of supplies waited in warehouses in Menia for delivery, and that could only happen if the roads were safe and there was somewhere to unload as close as possible to Trokia. His intended port was in the demesne of Dor.

With everyone included there were almost three times as many horses as wiga, and marching three abreast, each mile would take three hundred riders, so the entire column would be almost eight miles long. And, it was a small fyrd. Nonetheless, it would take Conn some effort to regain his spot at the front.

As the last man passed, Driscol took a deep breath. ‘I’m truly glad I’m on your side, Taransay. I don’t know if I have ever seen a fyrd or wiga of this quality before, and a fyrd this strong is not necessarily a good thing. Anyway, you might not have to fight Gorman – he’ll probably die of fright when he sees it.’

‘One can only hope.’

He still looked concerned. ‘I wish you good health. The thought of this fyrd without you in charge fills me with dread. Let us hope that not too much blood is spilled in Kania – and certainly not yours. Please take care.’ With that, he shook Conn’s hand, and rode away.

With Driscol gone, Conn cantered the miles around the long line of wiga until he joined Halla and Derryth at the front. The stallion was breathing heavy by the time he arrived.

‘What took you so long?’ Derryth chided him. ‘It is almost lunchtime.’

‘You just had breakfast. Anyway, first things first – let’s get rid of Gorman.’

‘Hope that doesn’t take too long. I’m hungry already – and I’d kill for a coffee.’

~oo0oo~

Several hours after commencing the march at dawn, they crossed the border into Kania, and were well on their way toward the town of Nisa. It would take a couple of hours again before they arrived at Gorman’s position.

As soon as Gorman’s scouts spotted his fyrd, Conn signalled for the drummer to start a beat and with a large roar, the fyrd scattered into position, spreading out over the countryside. This part of Kania was largely open woodland and light forest, and they had an unimpeded trip to the battle front. Half an hour out, the pipers were signalled to join in.

Gorman had positioned his fyrd well, on the hillside opposing a small river. It would normally have a much larger amount of water flowing, but the latter part of winter was unseasonably dry and still cold; the snow from the winter peaks had still to melt to any great level. It all helped Conn but didn’t aid Gorman. As Conn crested the final hill, he signalled the drummer to cause his fyrd to stop.

Waiting for them on the rise was Esras. Scouts had joined up with Esras’ company and had brought him to Conn’s position. Brit raced forward to greet her father, and he actually cried when he saw her up close; almost twelve weeks had passed, and she was not the same girl he had sent away.

Conn rode up to the pair. ‘I return her to you safe and sound.’

Esras wiped the tears from his face. ‘I see that. Thank you. She reminds me so much of her